Surrounded
by DinerGuy
Summary: 2018 reboot. The memories that hit her were as sudden and painful as if Magnum had swung a 2x4 at her chest. Her mind immediately transported her years into the past, to one of the darkest missions she'd ever been on. The arms around her weren't those of a friend but of a terrorist, and she could swear she felt everything as vividly as she had on that terrible day...


_A/N: I'm just going to warn you all right now that __this fic gets pretty dark right around the middle. No graphic descriptions or anything, but, well, the insinuation is there for sure. Warnings apply for PTSD issues (even if I did try to even it out with fluff near the end)._

_Shout-out to frankiemcstein for her help with the plot and working out wrinkles I had along the way, as well as for being my guinea pig and cheerleader as I worked on it._

_Standard disclaimers apply._

* * *

Juliet watched her opponent warily as the man shifted his weight back and forth. He was looking for an opportunity to catch her off-balance, and she was determined not to give him an opening.

In the next second, he moved for her, but he lowered his left hand just slightly, and she took advantage of it. She ducked forward and landed a solid kick to his chest, pushing him backward. Immediately, she followed up with a jab of her right hand, but he was expecting it.

He grabbed her wrist and twisted, using her momentum to his advantage to try to unbalance her. She responded by kicking a leg out and catching the back of his knees, then she threw her weight sideways into his torso, dropping him to the ground and landing with a knee in his chest and an arm at his throat.

"Okay, okay; you win!" Rick chuckled, hands lifted in surrender.

They were both breathing heavily, but Juliet grinned and stepped off of him, then extended a hand to help him up. "Good one," she complimented, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. She stepped over to where she'd left her water bottle next to one of the palm trees on the lawn and looked out over the ocean that stretched beside Robin's Nest as she took a drink.

"Thanks; you, too." Rick brushed his sweaty palms on his shorts as he came over beside her to retrieve his own water. He glanced at her and then lifted an eyebrow. "Best three out of five?"

She laughed and set her bottle down again. "Because losing twice wasn't enough for you?"

"More like I let you win," he countered, although the twinkle in his eye belied the comment.

"As if," Jules replied playfully. "But if you want me to beat you again, then, by all means." She lifted her fists and tilted her head in invitation.

He chuckled and recapped his water, then dropped it to the ground and moved over to stand opposite her. "You're on."

They danced around for a moment as each looked for an opportunity to make a move. Rick jumped forward, but Juliet dodged aside and evaded his reach, which put them back to carefully watching each other. Taking a deep breath, Rick watched as she waited just out of his reach. He was determined he was going to win this round; the other guys would never let him live it down if he lost every single sparring match that morning—even if it was to Higgins.

She moved in, but Rick managed to counter her jab with a block, then he ducked around and behind her. She spun to keep him in her sights, and they were back to their standoff.

A few kicks, blocks, and jabs later, Rick still had his hands up and loosely clenched near his chest as he evaluated Juliet's stance. She was focused on something, probably the opening he knew she'd seen when he'd dropped his hands for a brief second just a moment before. He'd taken what he thought was a chance at knocking her off-balance, but it hadn't done anything but nearly get _him_ on his back—again. He'd quickly recovered, but he knew from the look on her face that she was certain he'd do it again if she was patient enough. He wasn't about to give her that opportunity though.

As they continued their face-off, something behind his opponent caught Rick's attention. He couldn't help the chuckle at the sight of Thomas sneaking up quietly behind Jules. The other man put a finger to his lips and wiggled his eyebrows, and Rick shook his head.

"Something funny? Am I boring you?" Jules called playfully as she started to dart toward him to get another strike in. Focused as she was on the match, she must not have heard Thomas's soft footsteps sneaking up behind her in the lush grass.

And then Thomas jumped forward and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. The mischievous smirk on his face faded in the next second as Juliet's entire bearing changed.

Her posture grew rigid, and she froze for just a second. A strange look crossed her face, then, in a flash, she crouched and dropped her shoulders forward, using Thomas's weight to throw him over her head in the same motion. A quick kick to his chest and a powerful blow to his face had Thomas lying on his back with barely the chance to groan before he went limp.

"Ooh, wow, that looked painful!" Rick called with a laugh. Leave it to T.M. to get himself decked by Higgins because he tried to prank her. Rick might've lost a few rounds, but at least he hadn't been beaten _that_ badly.

At the sound of his voice, Juliet's head snapped toward Rick, and he blinked in surprise. Gone was his laughing, lighthearted sparring partner of a few moments before. In its place was an expression that was a mixture of fear and rage—something he'd never seen from Jules before. Something was very, very wrong.

She fixed Rick with a hard look that unsettled him even more, mostly because it was coming from Jules and he couldn't remember her ever looking so intense and scared all at once. Then she launched herself at him with a yell, that same depth of emotion and instinct still in her eyes.

He didn't know what was happening, but he knew one thing: he had to stop her before she hurt herself. She'd taken down Thomas with the element of surprise, but Rick didn't want her to accidentally do something to injure herself or someone else.

Unlike Thomas, Rick had some warning and so was prepared for her when she reached him. He executed a move he'd learned in combat training years ago—and never thought he'd have to use against a friend. His muscle memory served him well, and he dragged her to the grass, using his body weight to pin her down.

She cried out in rage and struck for his face, but he caught her fist.

"Whoa! Hey, it's just me!"

The strength in her struggles was beyond what Rick had expected from someone as light as Juliet. Planting his knees on either side of her, he used his weight to hold her down firmly. He rested one arm against her throat just enough to keep her from moving but not so much that he hurt her while his hands held on to hers. "Juliet! Hey, hey, it's me; it's Rick," he tried again, taking in the pain etched across her face.

"Let me go!"

The terror hidden under the determination in her voice nearly broke his heart. He clenched his jaw and pushed down a little more as she fought against his grasp. It was a horrible thing to do, and he felt every single ounce of that truth in his soul. But he also knew there was something serious going on.

He'd seen his share of PTSD-fueled episodes over the years—for that matter, he'd _had_ his share over the years. Still did. Rick knew what the flashbacks felt like, what they looked like, and he knew right away that was what Jules was dealing with at the moment. He didn't know exactly why Thomas grabbing her from behind had triggered it, but all he could think was to keep her from hurting herself so they could then help her work through it.

Speaking of his friend, Rick could see Thomas still lying in the grass nearby, seemingly trying to regain his breath. But Rick didn't have time to focus on the other man before he felt Juliet yanking against him again. She planted her feet and tried to buck him off, almost succeeding before he recovered his balance.

"Hey, come on, Jules. You're okay; you're safe," he said gently, watching for any sign that her flashback was breaking.

She still had a wild look in her eyes, which were darting back and forth as her chest heaved. Wrenching against Rick's grip again, she shook her head and gritted her teeth. "No… let me go!"

Something shifted nearby, and Juliet's panicked gaze jumped in that direction at the sound, her eyes widening slightly.

Rick glanced over to see Thomas picking himself up off the grass. Blood was trickling down the side of his face from a cut by his eye and the beginnings of a decent bruise were starting to darken the area from his cheekbone to his eyebrow, but his gaze was solely focused on Jules.

"Hey," Thomas said, his voice soft and apologetic. "Higgy, it's me. It's Magnum. I'm sorry." He sank to his knees next to Rick and exchanged a look with his friend. "Can you hear me? You're in Hawaii, at Robin's Nest."

"You're okay," Rick echoed, keeping a watchful eye on her face. The pain was still there but with a little less anger now, and he allowed himself to hope she was coming out of whatever terrible place her mind had taken her to. "Jules, you hear me? It's Rick, and Magnum's here, too."

Thomas tentatively reached out a hand, and Rick noticed when recognition flashed across the other man's face and he pulled back just before actually touching her shoulder. Thomas bit his lip and studied Juliet's face. "Higgy, I'm really sorry. I didn't know."

Noticing the way her expression was slowly changing, Rick took a chance and lifted his weight a little. He was ready to grab her again if she lashed out, but she seemed to be relaxing ever so slightly under him.

And then the faraway look in her eyes vanished as quickly as it had set in. Jules inhaled a ragged breath and looked between the two men above her as if trying to work out what was happening. "Rick?" she asked slowly, her brow wrinkling as she seemed to process she was pinned down.

He quickly moved back, gently letting her go but keeping a watchful eye just in case something snapped again.

But, as she sat up, Juliet looked nothing other than dazed and concerned… and there was a wet emotion dancing in her eyes. "Magnum?" she asked, voice wavering with uncertainty. She started to reach for his injury but then pulled back.

"You okay?" Rick asked in concern.

"I… Yeah…" She swiped a hand under her nose.

Thomas cleared his throat. "Higgy, I'm really really sorry. I had no idea. I would never have snuck up behind you like that if—"

He broke off as she abruptly pushed to her feet. "Excuse me," was all she said before she dashed toward the beach.

* * *

Higgins nearly lost her footing as she hit the white sand, but she kept her balance and didn't slow her pace. She could feel the tears starting to run down her cheeks, and her breath was coming in ragged gasps.

The memories that had hit her when Magnum's arms had reached around her had been as sudden and painful as if the man had swung a 2x4 at her chest instead. Her mind had immediately transported her years into the past, to one of the darkest missions she'd ever been on, and she'd felt all of the emotions—the terror, the pain, the desperation—as clearly as the day it had happened. The arms around her hadn't been Magnum's but those of a terrorist, and Higgins could have sworn she'd even felt the ropes and smelled the blood just the same as she had on that day…

Her legs and lungs were burning, and she slowed her pace, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. A log, washed up by the tide, sat just ahead, and she collapsed onto it. Higgins brushed a hand across her face, wiping away salty tears even as more took their place.

She took a deep, sobbing breath and looked out across the ocean, searching for some escape from the images flooding her mind.

A gentle _wuff _by her elbow pulled her attention back to the sand, and she couldn't help the small smile that played across her face as she saw the lads staring back at her. They both looked worried, and Zeus shuffled forward a few inches to lay his head on her lap. He blinked up at her with large, soulful eyes, and she dropped a hand to rub his ears.

"Hey," she said hoarsely.

Apollo came up on her other side now and tilted his head as he studied her face. She reached her free hand out to him, and he immediately nudged under it.

Taking another breath, Higgins attempted to release some of the pain and stress building up in her chest. "Sorry for worrying you lads," she told them, her words tilting downward as her voice broke.

They watched their mistress as if they could understand what she was saying, and Apollo licked her hand.

Higgins gulped another sigh against the panic she could still feel threatening inside of her. She knew she was safe now—she was in Hawaii, on Robin's estate, and she knew that—but the memories were still so _real. _

"I'd have thought that after all this time I'd be over it, at least more than this," she mused aloud. stroking the two dogs. "It was such a long time ago, but yet it somehow feels like it just happened…"

* * *

It was supposed to be an easy mission, even considering the stakes. Higgins hadn't been in the field as long as some of her colleagues, but she was by no means a newbie either. She was also the perfect choice of their team to pose as a reporter gathering content from the battlefields of the war-torn Middle East.

A small group of British aid workers had been ambushed and taken hostage while on their way to a refugee camp for displaced families. They were being held with the threat of execution if several high-profile prisoners were not released by the next day.

Knowing the government would never—could never—capitulate, the intelligence team had immediately started putting together a plan of action. Factoring in the layout of the terrain and the number of terrorists they expected would be at the camp, the decision was made to use an alias of Higgins'—a BBC reporter. They'd utilise several key contacts to spread the word that she had intel on the terror group and was on her way to meet up with special forces to mount a rescue. Based on what they already knew, the group behind the kidnappings had ears everywhere and wouldn't pass up a chance to add more prisoners to their reputation—and body count. Plus, a well-connected reporter was someone the terrorists would want to get their hands on. The intelligence that could be extracted alone would make it worth snatching her up, not to mention the political impact whenever they finally decided to kill her.

Despite all of that, though, Higgins wouldn't actually be risking much. The group's leader did have quite the reputation for cruelty, but Higgins would only be in their clutches for a short while, mostly during transport. Her team would follow her, ascertain the location of the five aid workers, and launch an attack during which they'd pull the prisoners out safely.

That was it. That was the plan. It was simple and straightforward. Higgins knew there was a risk of being injured when she was taken—and even for the potential beginnings of torture before the team arrived—but she was prepared for it.

She'd been strolling down the street, pretending to be focused on meeting up with her contact but really bracing herself for the kidnapping they all knew was coming. Sure enough, three men had suddenly surrounded Higgins, stuck something sharp up against her ribs, and forced her to follow them. That, she had been prepared for, as she had been for when one of the men quickly produced a small device and ran it along her body. That was the precise reason she'd refused to swallow or carry a tracker of any kind. The tech existed to make it easy enough, but there was the possibility the terrorists would want to make sure they weren't followed, and she didn't want to risk upsetting them—or risk one of the men deciding to cut a tracker out of her.

What she did _not _anticipate was her captors taking an underground tunnel that no one on the team knew existed until she was dragged down it. She hadn't gone in with an earpiece or any other sort of communications device, so she had no way to let the others know what was happening. And the chances were very slim her team had been able to follow the quick series of corners the terrorists had taken and the way they'd immediately ducked inside a doorway and then into the open trapdoor in the home's floor.

As soon as the small group was through the opening, the woman in the house had slammed the door shut, plunging the tunnel into pitch blackness. Higgins could hear a rug shifting, followed by the sound of something heavy moving above them, and her heart sank. The whole thing took less than a minute tops. One of the men produced a small light, which illuminated a few feet into the darkness.

A shove sent Higgins stumbling down the stairs, and she barely caught her balance with no railing for assistance. She'd no sooner made it to the dirt floor than the one of the men grabbed her arms and roughly jerked them behind her back. He wound a rope around her wrists tightly as someone else stuffed a rag into her mouth and tied it at the base of her neck, then pulled a black hood over her head.

"Move!" The man behind her pushed her shoulder again, and she fell.

Unable to catch herself, she winced as the impact with the ground jarred something in her left shoulder.

"Careful!" someone shouted. Higgins wasn't fluent in the specific local dialect the man was speaking, but she knew enough to be able to interpret what was being said. "If you break her neck now, you'll pay for it! He wants her alive."

A large hand dragged her to her feet. Higgins gathered her legs underneath her, stumbling slightly as she was pulled down the tunnel. She could only hope whoever was leading her would make sure she didn't trip over any obstacles.

They walked for what Higgins guessed to be about a mile. As the men continued to prod her along, Higgins racked her brain for a way she could get word to her team of her location. She knew how impossible it was for the others to have been able to follow her or find the trapdoor in the little house. And, even if they did, the woman would surely point them in the wrong direction.

Higgins clenched her jaw around the gag and hardened her resolve. Change of plans or not, she had a mission to complete. There was still a chance her team would find her, and, even if they didn't, she couldn't give up. She could figure out a way to pull this off. She had to. Those aid workers were counting on her; they had no one else.

Lost in her thoughts, she was caught by surprise when they suddenly stopped and the hand slipped from her arm.

"Climb," someone grunted.

She put up a foot tentatively and felt the wooden stair in front of her. Cautiously, she began ascending, hearing the steps echo dully under her feet. She felt her way up until she'd reached level ground. There was warmth on her skin, and she no longer smelled the dampness of the tunnel.

There was the sound of a car engine close by, then Higgins heard a door open and felt herself being lifted and half-thrown into the backseat. As the doors slammed shut and the vehicle started off with a lurch, Higgins pushed everything to the back of her mind and forced herself to focus on their route. Memorising the number of turns they took and when might be her only hope of escape at this point.

The ride itself was uneventful, if jarring as the vehicle rattled over the rutted and uneven roads. Eventually, they pulled to a stop a good forty-five minutes after leaving the city. She heard the door open before hands dragged her from the vehicle.

Whoever was by her side didn't stop until they were inside some sort of structure. Higgins was pushed down into a wooden chair, her arms forced over the back so that her hands hung bound behind it. She gave a tentative tug and found the knots around her wrists were still dishearteningly secure.

Higgins could feel the panic threatening, but she steeled herself and pushed her emotions down. She'd known this was a possibility going in, and she'd trained for this sort of situation. She just had to outlast whoever was about to question her, and then she could figure out how to find the captured aid workers.

Heavy footsteps pulled her attention back to the present, and then someone yanked the hood from her head.

Her head pounding in the sudden rush of light, it took Higgins' eyes a moment to adjust. When they did, she found herself face-to-face with the leader of the terror cell. He was unmistakable after the dossiers she'd studied for hours.

An unsettling smile spread across his face as he regarded her. "I hear you know a lot about me," he began. He reached forward and tugged the rag from her mouth, letting it fall to rest around her neck. "I have a lot of questions for you."

Higgins just stared straight ahead, determined not to give him a thing.

She succeeded in her objective—but at a price. By the time two men dumped her onto a dirt floor at the end of a long hallway, she was barely conscious. Higgins blearily took in the worried faces leaning over her and realised she'd found the aid workers. She vaguely felt her wrists being untied, then the ground shifted underneath her as someone cradled her head in their lap. A pair of gentle hands stroked her hair, but then someone else shifted her torn and bloody shirt and prodded her side, sending her reeling back into insensibility.

The next unknown number of hours were spent fading in and out, but she didn't start to recover any strength until the third or fourth time her eyes blinked open. That was when she finally felt like she could actually stay awake, and she gave the woman looking down at her a weak smile.

"How are you feeling?" came the gentle question as Higgins felt a hand on her forehead.

Despite her best efforts, Higgins groaned. "I've been better."

The aid worker shook her head. "I'm sorry we can't do more to help. You need a doctor—"

"But we're kind of short on medical supplies," a man nearby cracked.

Higgins allowed the corner of her mouth to tuck upward, then closed her eyes against a wave of guilt. _They_ were apologising to _her,_ but she was the one who couldn't do what she'd come there to. She literally had no ideas on how to get the others out of this place. All she could do was hope her team would somehow pull off a miracle and burst through the door. She didn't know exactly what time it was at the moment, but she knew the terrorists' deadline had to be looming.

Another bout of nausea rolled through her, and she winced at its severity. She couldn't bring herself to open her eyes again, and the quiet voices of the others in the room soon faded out around her.

The next thing she knew, she was being roughly yanked upright. Her eyes sprang open as her stomach churned. She glanced around and saw three bearded men in robes looming over the group of terrified prisoners. She recognized two of the terrorists—the man holding her arms and the one pointing a rifle around the room—from the day before. Another, whom she didn't remember, had pulled one of the male aid workers to his feet, but that was all Higgins saw before she was dragged from the room. She could hear their captors slamming the door behind her.

"Move!" one of the terrorists barked.

It was all Higgins could do to obey. Her feet were rebelling as she frantically searched for a plan, for some sort of an idea on how she could take these men down and rescue the others. Even if it cost her everything, this was her mission, and she couldn't let it fail. But what could she do alone in her injured state? Without her team, she was at a severe disadvantage.

The man at her side pulled her to a stop in front of another door, and, when it swung open, Higgins' heart plummeted. She was looking into an open courtyard, stone walls rising on every side, but all she could focus on was the video camera set up in the middle of the space. A banner proclaiming a motto in large black letters was hung opposite the camera, and Higgins knew immediately what was about to take place.

_No. This can't be happening._ The thought rushed through her mind, tumbling amidst her attempts to formulate a plan.

As she was pushed forward and made to stand in front of the camera along with the aid worker—whose name she realised she knew but couldn't seem to remember—a cold feeling settled in her gut. There was absolutely nothing she could do now. Barring the last-minute arrival of her team, she wasn't getting out of here alive. She'd be brutally killed by these savages, the footage splayed all over the internet in an attempt to intimidate her government.

Her head was spinning. She felt herself wobbling on unsteady knees, and she swallowed hard. She wanted to look to the man to her right, to give him some kind of encouraging look that would help him get through the horror she knew was coming… but she couldn't bring herself to.

Higgins had long ago made peace with the fact that she might die in the line of duty, and so she squared her shoulders in preparation for whatever was about to come. She centered her mind by watching the terrorist in front of her fiddle with the video camera—which meant the arms wrapping around her from behind nearly made her jump out of her skin.

Pinning her arms to her sides, the man dragged her backward. Higgins instinctively pulled against the motion, but he was much stronger. She could do nothing but helplessly let him half-carry, half-drag her several feet to the left.

"You know, I can make this all stop."

The sudden accented English in her ear made her flinch. She could feel the man's beard against her neck, feel his stomach pressed up against her back, and she couldn't hide the involuntary shudder that ran through her. She knew exactly who he was. This was the same man who'd spent the better part of… whenever she'd arrived at the compound—if the deadline was now, did that mean it had been a whole day since she'd gotten there?—questioning her for information on troop movements that she honestly knew nothing about. She wouldn't have told him if she had, but it was something he thought her cover identity knew, which made it worse.

Nausea rolled through her again, and she clenched her jaw to fight against it.

The man holding her interpreted her action differently, though, and he gave her a small shake even as he squeezed her tighter. "Do you really want your stubbornness to be the reason this man dies?" he hissed.

Higgins' heart ached. She wasn't even holding out for the greater good; she literally did not know the information they thought she did, and now this poor man she was supposed to be saving was about to die for it. At a loss for what else to do, she tried to pull away, but, again, the muscular arms encircling her didn't let go.

"I don't know what you want," she returned, knowing her voice was weak and wavering and hating it. "Please, let him go. Kill me instead. You can do whatever you want to me." She tried to sound as convincing as possible. "I'm the one who won't cooperate. Not him." She looked back over at where her fellow prisoner had been forced to his knees. He was facing straight ahead at where one of the men was holding a handwritten sign just above the camera, and Higgins wanted to scream at everyone to just _stop._

"No. _You_ are going to tell me what I want to know," the man behind her said harshly. "Maybe this'll give you some motivation."

At the same time as Higgins realised the camera was recording, the aid worker—William, she suddenly remembered—finished reading the script. One of their robed captors, now wearing a black balaclava and wielding a sword, stepped over to stand next to him.

"Last chance," the voice was back in her ear.

Higgins felt like she might vomit.

And then it was too late, and Higgins couldn't stop the tears that leaked down her cheeks. This was all so horribly wrong. She sagged against the grip that was the only thing keeping her upright.

"That didn't have to happen."

She wanted to block out the man's words, but he was leaning down to speak them directly to her, and she couldn't even cover her ears because of how he was keeping her hands at her sides. Higgins struggled again, harder this time, but she only succeeded in pulling something in her back, and she bit down on a cry of pain.

"What do the British know about our movements?" came the question again. "They cut off two of our supply runs this month. How do they know? And what is their next campaign? Where are they planning to move after this week?"

Higgins closed her eyes and took as deep of a breath as she could past the iron grip around her chest. "I told you… I don't know. Really. I'm just a reporter."

The man squeezed her upper arm. "I know that. But I also know you have more information than you're letting on. How else did you know our location to launch a rescue of these aid workers?"

The smell of blood had reached her now, and Higgins pressed her lips together. She could barely think straight.

"Do you want to be next?" He sounded angry now, but it was tightly controlled which made it more intimidating than if he'd been yelling at her. And with the voice coming from behind her, Higgins found it even more unsettling than if she'd been tied to a chair facing him.

Honestly, she thought, being next might be preferable to what these men would do otherwise.

Higgins watched miserably as one of the guards dragged William's body through a door on the opposite end of the courtyard. The thought that she'd failed him settled in her gut and stayed there.

She didn't know what was about to happen, and she could only hope it would be more interrogation. It was what she'd trained for, what she'd gone in knowing might happen. And the longer they focused on her, the less they focused on the other prisoners, which meant the team might make it to the compound in time to save at least some of the captives.

"I'm just a reporter," she said in response to yet another question, clearing her throat. "I came across information about your location, and that's why I was going to the military." She racked her brain for something she could say that would get the terrorists interested in questioning her once again. "When I realised what I had, I couldn't just sit on it."

All that did was cause the arms around her to slide even more tightly around her. It was like having a snake wrapped around her body, and the man was so close that Higgins could smell his rancid breath.

"And that is why you're going to tell me everything you know." The man's mouth was so close to her ear that she could feel her hair moving with each word. "I'll ask you again. How did the British Army know our route?"

Higgins swallowed. "I… I don't know. That wasn't—"

"That is not what I asked."

"I… they… they used a satellite," she tried, searching for the most convincing lie she could spin on such short notice. "British intelligence was able to identify one of your vehicles, and they used information gathered from that operation to deduce your next movemen—"

_"Liar!"_

The roar caused Higgins to flinch in surprise as her headache flared. She couldn't help the small yelp as her injured side was roughly compressed again.

"You can't even tell the truth, not even to save someone's life!" The man shifted so one arm was wrapped around her neck, holding her head in place as he pivoted toward the center of the arena again. "Looks like you need more convincing."

At the words, one of the other men disappeared through the door they'd brought Higgins through earlier. It was as if the whole thing was playing out in slow motion, and Higgins desperately wanted to stop it all, but she just _couldn't._ No matter how hard she fought against the man's grip, he was so much stronger than she—even if she hadn't already been injured and weak.

She took a breath and then tried dropping her weight to wriggle free, but he caught her and laughed. He cuffed her in the back of the head before both arms were back around her.

One by one, throughout the course of the longest day of Higgins' life, she was forced to watch as each of the aid workers was dragged inside the courtyard. The gut-wrenching moments were punctuated by more questions, more blows, and the overwhelming rush of emotions as Higgins could do absolutely nothing but watch as the terrorists filmed murder after murder in front of her.

The warm air hung densely around her, retaining the terrible smells as if the breezeless day was also taunting her. Higgins could taste the copper, and it sent her stomach reeling every time she stopped to think about what it meant.

She'd tried closing her eyes once, but one of the men had seen. A cry from the prisoner currently in front of the camera had drawn Higgins' gaze back to the traumatising scene in the center of the courtyard. As she'd taken in the guard's dagger being pulled from the arm of the woman Higgins remembered waking up to see looking down at her in concern, the man behind her had squeezed so hard that Higgins had felt a rib crack at the pressure.

Fire had shot through her, and she'd gasped as sparks danced across her vision.

"You wanted this, so you must watch," he'd insisted. "If you won't stop it, you don't get to hide from it."

By the time the last of the prisoners was forced to his knees, Higgins was physically and emotionally exhausted past every limit she'd thought she was capable of. She'd continued to try to free herself, but the man holding her was just too strong. All she'd gotten for her efforts had been more pain while the arms had stayed there, encircling her from behind, holding her tightly against the monster who kept insisting she could stop it all if she would just give him what he wanted.

"You _might_ be able to hold out now…" The man's voice was back in her ear, and Higgins felt a shiver run down her spine as he moved one of his hands to brush aside the hair that had fallen in her eyes on her last attempt to escape. "Yes, you're so resolute now, but what about when they're all gone?" he asked. "This may not have convinced you to talk, but you'll find I can be even more persuasive when necessary."

She swallowed, knowing he was serious but unable to make herself care. What threat was it, really, after how spectacularly she had failed in her mission? The images of what she'd seen that day were replaying on a loop through her mind, and she wasn't sure she'd ever get rid of them.

The man leaned down to whisper in her ear again. "You can still save him. Just tell me what I want to know, and we'll let him go. Unless you don't want him to live?"

Higgins shook her head, unable to find the words to even try to stop what was happening. Her mouth was dry, and her throat clenched as she felt herself trembling involuntarily. She could taste the bile, as she had for hours now, but it was as if none of her reflexes were even functioning any longer. Everything was cold and numb.

When the final blow of the sword fell, the man grunted. "It's a shame this had to happen. It's all your fault they're all dead, you know. If only you could have told me the truth."

Higgins closed her eyes in a heartbroken sigh, but they sprang back open when she suddenly felt the man dragging her backward again. Her surroundings tilted and spun. When they reached one of the pillars that lined the courtyard, supporting the surrounding buildings' roofs, he yanked her arm to whirl her around. Pain exploded up her spine and through her side as he pushed her up against the stone. She whimpered as he pressed an arm against her throat, partially cutting off her air and holding her in place as someone's arms reached around her.

A long length of rope was snaked around her chest and upper arms, and Higgins' stomach roiled. The utter helplessness of being pinned from behind yet again sent shivers of terror through her, even despite her best efforts, as the rope coiled around her. Her struggles to free herself were in vain as her bonds were pulled tight and then tied off. The man released her and stepped back, drawing a dagger from his belt as she watched helplessly.

When he moved from her direct line of sight, she suddenly realised she'd been positioned so that she was facing the dark stain in the center of the courtyard, and the sight made her wish a hole would just open up and swallow her.

And then her heart jumped again as the hands from behind her were back, winding more rope around her waist, holding her wrists in place at her sides. She fought it almost instinctively at that point, but still to no avail.

A moment later, the questions started again while she stood unable to free herself and escape the pain. But what could she say anyway? Even her attempt at lying to save a life had backfired on her earlier, so what could she do now? At this point, Higgins welcomed the shadows dancing tantalisingly at the edges of her vision with each punishment for not answering. She just wanted to fall asleep and never wake up again. Her worst nightmares were preferable to this.

But she just couldn't reach the darkness. Every time she thought it was about to take her, her interrogator would somehow draw her back to consciousness. He would then smile evilly as she gasped in pain, reminding her that everything that had happened was completely her fault. It happened over and over again until the mantra pounded through her mind like a track stuck on repeat.

It didn't matter that he was seeming more nervous and desperate as the day wore on. He was right, and she knew it.

By the time the sunlight faded around her and the night set in, she was alone. The center of the courtyard seemed to draw her attention back to it every time she tried to look away. The shivers that continually aggravated her side and head were as much from the cold air as from the horror of what she had faced—was facing. She felt like she could barely breathe between the tightness of the ropes and the wounds that sent pain throbbing through her with every heartbeat.

The terrorist had left her with the promise to return soon, and he'd looked at the darkening sky and meaningfully raised an eyebrow. "The desert can get cold at night," he'd said. "Maybe it'll help clear your mind, and you'll be ready to talk after a few hours, hm?"

She couldn't even wrap her arms around herself to attempt to ward off the chill, and she knew she was slipping further into shock as the moments passed. The ropes around her seemed to come alive, muscles bunching as they pinned her securely—not against a frigid stone pillar but to the warm body of a terrorist who towered above her and continued to whisper in her ear, _"This is all your fault. They would still be alive if you hadn't failed so completely."_

Time seemed to stretch on, and Higgins had no idea how long she'd been alone. Everything was blurred together in one huge ball of guilt and terror and pain—and the constant, terrible feeling of being pinned from behind.

At some point, she heard loud crashes and echoes from… somewhere, but it all seemed so far away, and she didn't even look to try to figure out from where. Then footsteps came much closer, and she jumped as arms came around her once again.

"No… no…" She tried to push against them, realising belatedly that her hands were actually free and could do as they were told. But she was so cold and numb that she only managed to flail uselessly at the men who were back for more horrific games.

"Higgins? Higgins, can you hear me?"

Huh, that sounded a lot like a British accent, not the rough and broken English of the terrorist who'd been her constant companion for most of the day. But what was—No, that couldn't be right. Her mind must be playing tricks on her.

"Higgins, it's Warren. Open your eyes for me. Hey… She's in shock. Marten! Hand me that blanket."

Higgins just couldn't focus. She could see shadows dancing around her, feel something heavy against her shoulders. She tried to escape its weight but she couldn't seem to get out from under it.

"No… no…" She tried to protest.

"Come on; focus on me, Higgins. Higgins!"

"Somebody get the stretcher in here! And where's Doc?"

The ropes around her chest had vanished now, and there were hands on her arms, holding her up. The memories that flashed through her mind at that, of being hauled down the tunnel… into the car… down the hallway… yanked backward while William died… Higgins struck out at the man holding her, determined she wouldn't let that happen again. She couldn't—

"Hey, whoa! Come on, now. You know me."

But she didn't. She couldn't focus enough on anything. She tried to take a step forward, but her legs promptly buckled.

Arms caught her from behind, and she cried out at the sensation. No, this couldn't be happening, not again. She summoned every ounce of energy she could muster, managing to tear herself away, only to fall again before someone's grip closed around her biceps.

Terror ran through her, and she heard a scream that she realised was coming from her. Desperate for any way to wrench free, she slammed her head back to connect with whoever was there.

There was an exclamation of pain, but the hands stayed where they were. Higgins couldn't get free, and she felt more panic at the utter helplessness of the situation, causing her to fight harder.

"She's delirious. Doc, you gotta do somethin' before she hurts herself."

And then more hands were around her, lowering her down, and Higgins struggled against them. She was no match for whoever was there, though, and she felt herself being forced to the ground by someone much stronger. Her stomach clenched at the utter helplessness of being held on her back.

"No! Let me go!" She heard more than felt herself yelling.

Then something pinched her arm, and the darkness that had evaded her for so long finally rushed over her.

* * *

It would be several days before Higgins would wake in a military hospital. Physically, she would have some challenges to overcome, but the doctors were more concerned about her mental state.

She spent her waking hours sitting in the bed, knees pulled up to her chest, refusing to talk to anyone. Even when her teammates came by to check on her, she just stared straight ahead at the wall.

They sat by her anyway, their voices calm but laced with worry.

Warren told her of how they'd been frantic to find her, searching every inch of the possible routes nearby to no avail. He described how they'd even used a satellite to try to find her location and their despair when that hadn't worked. He told her how they'd worked every lead they had, only to be met with dead ends and compounds that looked like they'd been emptied just a day or two before.

Marten quickly glossed over the brutality of the footage they'd found uploaded to the web within half an hour of the deadline to tell her how Spencer had seen a rooftop rising above the courtyard wall in the background of the video and had recognised where it was filmed, sending the team scrambling into their vehicles and tearing off across the desert, praying they'd get there in time.

They told her how they'd hit a roadblock just before the final turn to get to the compound and how that had held them up until the sun was starting to set. They told her how Hines had finally managed to take out the last of their assailants with a grenade, clearing the way for them to smash through the gates and immediately pick off several terrorists. They continued the tale, assuring her they'd killed every one of the scumbags in the compound until they had found her and rushed her back to base and to the medical help she'd desperately needed.

But Higgins hadn't even acknowledged their presence, and the two had eventually left her with a parting, "Get better, Higgins."

It was the second session before she'd even looked at her therapist and an additional week of work before she was able to start to talk through the horrors of what she'd seen. She'd been so shaken and numb that it had required a lot of time and effort. Finally, though, they were making progress, and Higgins saw herself start to move past the PTSD she'd developed from her ordeal, although the nightmares continued to plague her for weeks.

She hadn't been able to help the innocent aid workers or herself, and it was just the right situation to keep someone—even someone with her training—going back for counselling for months. It had helped, although she'd had several false starts thinking she was back to normal only for someone to touch her shoulder from behind and cause a knee-jerk reaction. One such instance had nearly put Marten in the hospital. But the doctor had finally signed off on her mental health to return to the field, and Higgins was glad to be back in action, even if she did still have mandatory meetings to ensure her recovery stayed on track—much the same way she'd had to go into physicals several times before she was fully allowed to return to active duty.

Eventually, the memories of that mission gone horribly wrong had faded into the back of her mind where they didn't haunt her every waking moment. But, even after she'd left that world and moved to Hawaii, they still came back with a vengeance at the most inopportune of times…

* * *

"Under normal circumstances, I can handle people grabbing me from behind now," she said, taking a shuddering breath as she stroked Apollo's head. "I can control myself for the most part if I'm at least somewhat anticipating it, like when I fought those men in Nuzo's office. But it's just… the suddenness of it today, and while I was focusing on fighting Rick…" She shook her head and bit her lip. "The memories of that day just came rushing back, and I wasn't here; I was back _there,_ and I could see the courtyard… feel his arms around me again, pinning me to him… I just… just couldn't…"

Apollo licked her chin and whined as he watched her face.

Higgins smiled fondly and patted his head.

Both dogs suddenly leapt to their feet and spun to growl at something. Glancing in that direction, Higgins crossed her arms.

"What are you two doing?"

Magnum and Rick sheepishly stepped out onto the path and gave her matching innocent grins that prompted Higgins to roll her eyes. Then a thought occurred to her, and she looked between them.

"Have you been there this whole time?"

"Don't be mad, Higgy," Magnum started, stepping forward with his hands to the sides in a gesture of surrender. "We just wanted to make sure you were okay…"

Rick nodded. "And then you were so deep in concentration talking to the dogs that we didn't exactly want to interrupt…"

"So you decided to eavesdrop instead?" Higgins finished for them, lifting an eyebrow.

They exchanged guilty looks, and she sighed. At least if there was anyone who could relate to her right now, it was the boys. As soon as the thought had occurred to her, she blushed, feeling guilty for it having even crossed her mind.

Magnum crossed the sand and tentatively sat on the far end of the log. He gave Zeus a sideways look but then apparently decided it was safe enough and scooted a little closer to where Higgins was sitting in the middle of the piece of wood. "Higgins, I really am sorry," he told her, clearing his throat. "I'm _beyond _sorry."

Although he looked sincere, she couldn't focus past his swollen eye. He'd wiped some of the blood from his face, but it was still there in all its red and purple glory, and she felt a lump gather in her throat.

"Are you okay?" she asked him.

Magnum blinked, and his hand went to his head reflexively, which prompted him to wince as he brushed the injury. "What, this little thing?" he smirked. "I'll be fine."

A chuckle from Rick drew Higgins' attention over to the other man, and a piece of a tattered memory flitted through her mind. "Oh, Rick…" she breathed, "I was… did I—"

"It's okay, Jules," he was quick to assure her. Moving over to sit on the opposite end of the log as Magnum, Rick looked at Higgins seriously. "I want to know if _you're _okay. We didn't hear the whole thing, but that seemed pretty tough there."

She swallowed again, letting out another rough breath. She still couldn't believe what she'd done—and would have done if Rick hadn't reacted so swiftly—to either of the men sitting beside her. Rick and Magnum were family… they were her boys… and she couldn't believe she'd have actually gone after them, have hurt them like she did.

"Higgy," Magnum's quiet voice drew her attention back to where he was watching her. "I hope you know I didn't mean it."

Rick nodded. "And if I had any idea, I would've said something when I saw him behind you."

They both looked so forlorn, and Higgins felt her heart warm at their concern for her. She smiled fondly as she glanced between them. "You had no way of knowing," she assured them. "How could you?" She really didn't blame either of the boys. Yes, Magnum had been the one to trigger her flashback, but he'd done it innocently—well, innocently enough, childish prank aside.

Beside her, Magnum shifted and moved his hand to cover hers that rested on the log beside her. He moved tentatively, as if worried she might flinch away in terror again. "Hey," he said gently. "We're here for you. You know that, right?"

She felt her cheeks warm as the coldness of the emotions that had accompanied the rush of memories started to dissipate. "Yeah," she replied, smiling a little more widely now in thanks. "I know."

"And we're here if you ever need to talk," Rick added. He moved over so he was sitting closer to her, and Apollo immediately moved to nuzzle his head under the man's hand in search of more attention. "Plus, now that we know how this causes such bad memories for you, we promise never to let that happen again."

Magnum nodded emphatically at the words. "I know what flashbacks are like," he told her, his words soft and reassuring. "And I promise you won't have to deal with them alone if I'm around."

Higgins closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It had been a hard morning, but she knew the others were there for her, and that gave her the strength she needed to start to move past the waking nightmare of that day.

She heard someone shift beside her and looked over to see Rick getting to his feet.

"Okay, come on, T.M.," he said.

"What?" The other man blinked.

"You interrupted my sparring match with Jules," Rick explained. "The least you can do is sub in so I can finish getting my workout for the day."

Higgins laughed at the look Rick gave her. "Maybe you'll finally manage to win if you fight Magnum."

"Hey!" Magnum protested. "I'm pretty sure I can take Rick, thank you very much."

Shaking his head, Rick winked at Higgins. "That's why you have a shiner now. Because you're so good at holding your own in a fight."

Magnum looked at his friend seriously. "Yeah, but I was up against Higgy, so that's not even a fair fight."

Making a face, Rick shrugged in acknowledgment. "Good point."

"Come on, Higgy. You can be the referee," Magnum urged, holding out a hand to help her to her feet.

She accepted the help up and followed the others back to the grass, Zeus and Apollo trailing behind. Between the warm sunlight and the antics of the definitely-not-regulation match that ensued between Rick and Magnum, Higgins soon felt herself relaxing for the first time since the flashback had started.

* * *

"Come on; that is not what happened." T.C. rolled his eyes. "You expect me to believe Thomas got _that_ bruise from a door frame?"

Rick and Magnum exchanged glances.

"Don't tell Higgy we told you…" Magnum started slowly.

T.C. sighed. "Great. What did you do now? You didn't wreck the Ferrari again?" he asked suddenly, eyes widening at the thought.

"What? No!" Magnum looked offended T.C. would even mention that.

"Higgins punched him," Rick volunteered.

T.C. blinked and looked between his two friends. "What?"

Rick nodded. "But not for wrecking the Ferrari," he added with a grin.

Magnum shot Rick a glare and then sighed. "Yeah… but it was my fault. She had a really bad experience during a mission that's still with her."

"Oh," T.C. said softly, immediately understanding what the other man meant.

Clearing his throat, Magnum continued. "She, uh, was held by terrorists and forced to watch them kill the people she was supposed to have rescued."

The others noticed when his voice cracked, but no one said anything.

"And then she was tied up and interrogated for several hours before her team pulled her out," he finished. "So, uh, needless to say, people grabbing her from behind without warning doesn't end well."

There was a brief pause, then T.C. broke the heavy silence with a snort. "You mean to tell me you tried to sneak up behind Higgy? Where in your mind was _that_ a good idea?"

The levity of his comment carried the conversation on in a lighter direction, but the three men knew without it having to be said that the next weeks would be tough for their friend. All of them had experienced the resurfacing of their own traumatic memories from years past, and it was a process to work through every time. No one discussed it, but they'd each resolved to be hyperaware whenever they were with her in case she needed to talk; the memories Higgins' flashback had undoubtedly stirred up would be lurking vividly in the front of her mind for some time.

It was three days later when Higgins accompanied Magnum to check out a lead on his newest case. She knew his client from a yoga class she'd attended, and so she'd wanted to help get to the bottom of the mystery. The errand was just to check out an old warehouse that might hold a clue to the location of the stolen car they were looking for, so when two men had stepped through the doorway and yelled threateningly at them, it was a bit of a surprise.

Magnum and Higgins had immediately gone into fighting mode as the men had rushed them, and Magnum was just grateful neither seemed to have been carrying a gun. As he ducked a blow from his assailant, he'd noticed a third man entering from the far doorway—and that Higgins' back was currently turned to it.

A flash in his peripheral vision brought his attention back to the man he was fighting just in time to duck another fist. He wasn't quite fast enough and it glanced off his chin, but he needed to get this guy off his case and fast. Magnum growled and slammed a fist into the man's stomach, causing him to drop his guard just enough for a blow on the guy's jaw and then one to his temple. It worked and Magnum's opponent dropped to the floor, but the P.I. didn't even stop for a breath before springing forward to stand behind Higgins. He was so close he was nearly touching her back with his, and she briefly glanced his way before ducking an attack from her own opponent. Magnum gritted his teeth as he faced the new arrival, but, up until he finally managed to drop the guy, he made sure to keep himself at Higgins' back.

Two days after that, Higgins found herself swinging by Rick's club. He'd left his phone at Robin's Nest before heading to work, and she had an errand to run in the area, so she'd brought it with her to drop off to him.

She leaned against the counter, casually observing as the constant stream of partiers came and went around her while she waited for the waitress to find Rick. The place was teeming with tourists and locals alike, excitedly celebrating the start to the weekend.

"Hey! Thanks for coming by!" Rick came over to join her, and his grin widened in relief as she held the device out to him. "I can't believe I left this behind."

Higgins smiled. "No problem; I was out this way anyway."

"Well, I appreciate it. Hey, do you want something to drink?" he offered. "It's the least I can do."

She shook her head. "Thanks, but I'm driving."

Whatever she said next was lost on Rick as he noticed a patron coming toward the bar. This particular customer had already been warned the previous night about harassing fellow clubgoers, and Rick's eyes narrowed as he took in the definite drunkenness to the guy's gait. Then he saw the way the other man's eyes fixed on Higgins, who was laughing as she said something about Magnum and the dogs.

The drunk guy didn't deviate from his path, and, when Rick judged there to only be a few steps between them, he made his move. He darted from behind the bar in a flash and caught the guy's hand just as he started to reach to tap Higgins on the shoulder.

"Okay, buddy, I think it's time for you to go," he said firmly, catching the attention of his bouncer even as he twisted the drunk's arm behind his back to hold him still.

"Aw, but I was just gonna talk to the purty lady," came the slurred response.

Rick just shook his head and handed his ex-customer over to security. "And make sure he doesn't come back in here, okay?" He turned back and gave Higgins a smile. "Sorry, you were saying?"

The following Tuesday, T.C. was with Higgins as she pulled away from the mechanic shop.

"I really appreciate you giving me a ride," he said gratefully. "Leave it to my trusty old van to break down the day I'm running the office solo."

She smiled and waved off his thanks. "What else are friends for? Although, are you good if we make a quick stop? The shop is on the way back to Island Hoppers."

"That's fine," he assured her. "You're doing me the favor anyway."

They were on the baking supplies aisle as Higgins compared the labels on two boxes when a teenager turned down the far end of the row. T.C. rolled his eyes as he noticed the way the girl was zeroed in on her phone screen and how she narrowly missed running into a display of cake pans next to the shelves.

The teen continued toward them, and T.C. frowned. She was only a few steps away when he realized she was going to run into Higgy if she didn't look up from her phone—which he was pretty certain she wouldn't.

Taking one long step, he planted himself directly behind Higgy and crossed his arms. "Excuse me."

The girl jumped, her eyes wide as she looked up at him.

"Might wanna watch where you're going," he told her, glaring sternly.

She looked at him for a minute, then back to her phone and shook her head. "Whatever. Sorry, dude," she mumbled as she headed off around the corner.

Higgins raised an eyebrow at T.C., who winked at her in response. "Kids," he said, shaking his head.

That Friday evening, Higgins was sitting on a chair near the fire that they'd built on the beach. Rick, T.C., and Magnum were all sprawled out around it, and Rick and T.C. were passionately discussing the merits of some action movie compared to another, with Magnum listening in amusement.

She sighed and settled back in her seat on a log one of the guys had dragged over near the fire pit as she watched the dancing flames. It had been a long couple of weeks, and she was grateful for some time to relax.

"Hey, Kumu!" Magnum called suddenly, pulling Higgins' attention from the flickering fire. "Almost didn't see you there behind Higgy!"

"Aloha, Thomas," Kumu's voice came from behind Higgins as the older woman joined their group.

Higgins shot Magnum a raised eyebrow across the top of the small fire. She knew what he was doing, just as she'd realised what all three of them had been doing over the past weeks. When he winked at her and then turned back to the others' conversation, she just watched them with a smile.

It was amazing how like her old team they were when she stopped and thought about it. They were different in their own ways, of course, but there was still something about them that made her think about the others she had lost when she'd been disavowed.

Richard's death had been more than she could bear, but then she'd lost the others as well. Warren, Hines, Marten, Spencer… It wasn't just her fiance who'd been torn from her but also her closest friends. She had been devastated and sure she'd never find that bond with anyone ever again—until the guys had all shown up on the island, that is.

Family like that only came along once in a lifetime… but maybe she was wrong about that.

* * *

_Fin._


End file.
